


Collapsing Gravity

by SylvaniusOStephans



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-03 23:42:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10977849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylvaniusOStephans/pseuds/SylvaniusOStephans
Summary: Damien is a Grey nobody from Alhabor in the Sirius Constellation who becomes the Captain of his own ship due to strange circumstances. Damius, on the other hand, is the heir to the throne of Alhabor who had no choice but to disappear behind the mask of Damien, and thus becoming useless and just another skeleton in his closet. When he is forced to chose between finishing his mission as Captain, and loyalty to his people who need him after circumstances take away his father, everything goes wrong. No longer is Damien able to concentrate on saving the people of Lyra from ending up as slaves. No longer is Damius able to put his past behind him. Without his mask of Damien, what's left of him?





	1. Chapter 1

His face was twisted into what appeared to be a content smile as he leaned against the wall waiting for his results. His class could tell that he wasn't in his usual good humor, and he knew that for this, they couldn't blame him.

His very mind felt like it would crack soon if the scores weren't posted soon. His foot tapped slowly against the wall, attempting to keep himself as calm as possible.

Doubts danced in his mind as he tried to remember why he had thought this would be a good idea in the first place. Right, he reminded himself, it wasn't his idea. If he had his way, he would have still been hard at work in the libraries somewhere in Sirius. But no, for some stupid reason, his father had shipped him off to be tested as soon as he was legally old enough to.

He knew the speech by heart. How, if he was the correct personality with the correct type of mind, he would remind the galaxy of the greatness that Sirius used to be. He would restore the glory of his universal system. He was overall, help save Sirius and the planets that resided in it, from the dark chaos that hid inside. He was to be great, he had to be.

As a Alhaborian, though, greatness was never something he craved, nor was recognition. He was content to hide within the stacks of books from the twenty first and twenty second centuries. But no, he couldn't do that.

So, he figured out what everyone else wanted from him, someone brave, strong, outgoing, and able to calculate their way out of certain messes while charming their way out of others.

For the last five years, that had been just as much a part of him as his eye color was. Even if it took ten times more effort to keep up than his normal shields did.

He was fairly certain that most of his classmates had long since forgotten he wasn't from Orion or Earth. He his most of his visible traits that pointed it out, and was simply grateful that all three had roughly the same humanoid shape. He was stronger, both physically and telekinetically than most of his peers, faster thanks to his slim, but powerful body. His hair color, like all Siriusian's changed with his outward mood, thus why he usually kept the same careless smile on his features.

Right now, it was a dark sapphire blue that had streaks of blood red. His hair wasn't as long as most Alhaborian's kept their hair. At home, it would have usually gone down to the small of his back, but here, he kept it trimmed so that the back barely touched the base of his neck. His eyes, though, gave him away as an Alhaborian. They, like his hair, changed depending on his mood, though they were connected to his mind more than his body. Dark purple iris's with deep blue pupils were considered pretty strange, he had learned. Depending on his mood, his iris' would either darken to an almost black color, or lighten to lavender. His pupils did the same, lightening to an icy blue when he was in a good mood, or darkening to a navy color when he was more upset.

He, like most others from Alhabor, had long since learned how to control his outward emotions. For the most part, his hair stayed the same harsh sapphire against his paler than human skin. Every now and then, streaks of emotions that he couldn't fully hide added some extra color to it. 

Yes, he was strange in looks, and in the way the way he talked. According to an Earthling, he sounded like he belonged in the dark ages. It wasn't wrong, per say. He had gotten better at slipping in slang, as most people thought it was hilarious. He had gotten better at relaxing his language, but that didn't mean he didn't still sound uptight most of the time.

The Sirius Star System was set up so that their royal family lived on Alhabor, like most of the rest of their population. Sirius A, or Elhabo, was their supporting star, their sun, if you will. They were ruled by a family that, in his mind, was far more complex than most royal families.

The gender of their ruler didn't matter, nor did birth order. The difference between their ruler and the royal family was simple: Power.

He had been trained from as long ago as he could remember, and it wasn't only his body. He was a telepath, like almost all Alhaborian's.

He was also the one most fit to take over the throne after his father passed away. His four full siblings, as well as his twenty - nine older half siblings were all aware of it.

They had been attempting to kill him since their father announced him as his heir just over five and a half years ago. Not that it mattered much, as a few weeks later, he had been packed and sent here.

That said, he understood his duties, and didn't bother fighting them. That didn't mean that anyone here knew he was the favored choice and heir apparent to the Alhaborian throne. No, he kept mostly quiet about his family. It was one of the only subjects he didn't talk about.

He had heard the rumors, of course he had, about his family. Some of them were quite creative, he would give them that. That said, he didn't publicly burst into laughter when he heard them, so people assumed it was him admitting it.

The most common theory was that he was the son of a slave from Lyra and a trader who abandoned him in Alhabor. While it was good for a laugh, he mentally swore to himself he would never let his family hear about it, in fear of his classmates being sentenced to death.

While he liked his classmates, he wouldn't dare go against his father for them. No, he preferred his limbs where they were, thank you very much. Besides, they would never expect Damien to be the same as Prince Damius, Heir of Alhabor. Damien was more outgoing, more social, and pretty much everything that Prince Damius wasn't.

It had been difficult to figure out how to act in his first year, but by the end of it, he had built up a strong reputation of the guy who never got mad and worked as hard as he played. Now, after five years of playing Damien, he could pull up the mask in a split second.

What had strangely helped in the beginning was thinking of the names as two different people. Sure, a few people had questioned why he had a similar name to the Heir Apparent, but most people thought he was simply named after the favored prince. That had never failed to make him laugh at the thought of being named after himself, but it helped sell the back story he had created for himself.

His mouth twisted slightly into a smile as he looked around. Very few people actually got this far on the Grey Track. His class, when he had started out, had over three hundred hopeful future captains, and now, the only ones left were the twenty or so that surrounded him. Of them, only maybe ten would actually see captaincy in the first year or two.

His other classmates had become Blue's, Green's, Red's, Orange's, or Purples. Blue's usually became security officers, green's went into communication or language studies, Red's thrived as healers or doctors, Orange's went into science, either botany or space expeditions, and Purple's were where most of the failed Grey's went, engineering.

Grey's were different. Grey's became the leaders of their ships, usually starting off as a Second or Third in command. The program got more difficult every year. He pitied those who were the year behind him, he wasn't sure how big the class had been to begin with, but it would shrink, probably more than his had shrunk, until they finally graduated.

Most people that became Grey's wanted it more than anything, and had the potential to become great. They had to be skilled in politics, at least two fields under them, and were put under torture to make sure they were strong enough not to break under their enemies hands. In his case, he mastered the Blue, Red, and Green sections, just in case. He could perform surgery, and was legally, Dr. Damien. He could fight using several different styles, some his peers and teachers knew about, some they didn't, and he could speak in just over two dozen languages thanks to how he grew up. It was unacceptable for a prince, or anyone of the royal family, to not know at least a dozen languages before adulthood.

A shudder went through him at the thought of his first "session" in interrogation. He was pretty sure that at least a hundred dropped out that day alone. Several of them were put to death then and there. Somehow, though, he had survived with his secrets intact.

As far as the command was concerned, he was a no one from Sirius. His father had made sure of it. It didn't mean he was ashamed of his family, or his heritage, but it was more dangerous, not only for him but for his father as well, if word about him got out. He hated to think it, but he knew exactly how dangerous life outside the royal walls could be.

The door opened, and the man in charge of their final test, a human named Hunters, came out. There was no list in his hand, but that didn't mean much. This entire place was automated, which had been the cause of a cultural shock on Damius when he first started.

Now, though, Damien was comfortable with not only the technology, but the creation behind it. He was no engineer, nowhere near, but he had a basic understanding of how it worked. Hunters looked around at them, and each of them stood at attention.

"Everyone." The man greeted. "This year, we have a great bunch in front of me today, but as you know, the Grey Program is difficult, and you're final test even more so. We had seventeen of you pass. Out of the twenty-two that makes up your numbers, it was supremely surprising. I suppose I shouldn't be. Surprised that is. Each of you has worked hard to get where you are at this moment, and even if you didn't pass this round, you should know it has been an honor to watch each of you transform from unsure rookies to the confident leaders I see in front of me. Now, I won't hold the suspense anymore. I'll put up the list. You know the rules, one at a time, state your name, and your scores will show up on the wall, then the next and so on." Hunters saluted them, and they returned the gesture, before turning on his heels and returning to the closed room of judges.

Each of them was given a simulation for this test, one that could easily happen. There was no way to save everyone in it, but the goal was to save as many lives as you could without losing your own, your second, or your third.

It was more difficult than it sounded, as his was a fiery explosion and being under attack by an unidentified non- friendly. It had felt so real. He could still feel the flames licking his skin and the metal shards digging into his shoulder as he ushered his crew to safety while barking out as many orders as he could.

He had ended up with nineteen deaths out of a crew of seven hundred. It wasn't bad, but as soon as he had gotten back to the privacy of his dorm, he had been violently sick and unable to control his telepathy. That had been yesterday.

Thankfully, there was no sign of the distress he had felt the previous day, so no one knew exactly how much it affected him. He could tell that several of his fellow possible Grey's were still suffering from their choices the previous day.

Damien would have been too, if not for his abilities that came from being Alhaborian. His powers exploded a bit, but after that, the entice feeling of failure and self hatred softened. He was still disappointed with himself for not saving more of his virtual crew, but he couldn't hate himself too much for it.

He filled in line, after most of his class. Some of them sent him nervous smiles that he returned, others greeted him happily as they saw that they passed. Two people had been ecstatic, telling him that they were Grey's, but the third clearly didn't.

She was a few years older than him, and didn't really like anyone. She was beautiful by most standards, being from the Lyra Constellation, with dark green hair that fell perfectly down her back in a cascade of curls. But, she wasn't social. At all. He knew that being able to talk easily with people was important for their job.

She screamed in rage and rushed out of the room, shaking in hatred.

Damien wished he could say he was surprised by either her failure or her reaction to it, but he wasn't. Not in the least. She wasn't sympathetic, only focused on fighting and science, and refused any and all invitations to go anywhere with anyone.

He was almost positive that the lack of empathy was the main reason she wasn't selected. A Grey had to understand what their crew was going through, and be able to empathize and sympathize with crew and leaders of other planets alike.

The moment she relaxed her shields a bit and let other people in, she would become an excellent Grey.

Until then, though, she was wasting her time with the program. He wondered if she had gotten her choice between her two specialties, neither of which needed her to be sympathetic in any way. If so, she would make a dedicated crewman for a captain. Once she grew up a bit and pulled her head, as the humans said, out of her ass.

One by one, he watched the reactions of his classmates. One in particular, Rowan Sinclair, a human who had shared a room with Damien for the first three years, walked up to the board. He hoped that the other got it in.

He didn't cheer or jump, like most of the others who passed, but he turned towards Damien with a small smile playing on his lips, which, from someone else, would have been the same as jumping in the air and laughing happily. Their eyes met, and Rowan nodded just a bit.

Rowan, or Sin as Damien called him, nodded slightly, and Damien smiled back. He was proud of his friend. Sin was calmer, quiet, studious, but knew how to both talk to people, and how to relax outside of school. Sin was also his best friend, not that either of them had ever told that to the other.

The other had reminded him of how he had been back on Alhabor, and was always finding something interesting to do. He worked minored, for lack of a better word, in Orange and Purple, or Science and Engineering, two of the things that he personally, sucked with.

That said, they got along well, despite their differences, and loved to debate. Sin would be someone that would do best in the second or third position, because he loved to challenge, even more, and didn't particularly enjoy ordering people around. He could, and did so well, but he preferred to leave it to someone else.

No, Sin wouldn't be happy as the Captain of a space ship.

Four more people, three passes and another crying fail, before it was his turn. He stood in front of the board for a moment, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. He could have done better on that last simulation. He should have done better.

What if he failed? How would he tell his father? Or his mother for that matter? He hadn't even looked at his scores yet, and somehow, he was already doubting himself. He couldn't help but think of all the things he could have, should have, done better on.

But, unless he looked, he would never know.

He rolled his shoulders back, and took in a deep breath. "Damien of Alhabor in the Constellation of Sirius." He managed to say without letting his words shake at all, opposite of his balled up hands at his side.

He scanned the hologram. Then he did it again, eyebrow raising slightly. A third time finally let the words sink in.

Cadet Damien of Alhabor is from this day on Grey Damien. Orders and assignments will be sent out by next Tuesday at the latest.

He passed.

Somehow, someway, he passed.

He grinned widely, and rushed over to Sin, throwing his arms around the shoulders of his best friend.

Sin sighed and Damien could tell that the exasperation in it was completely faked. "I take it you passed then?" It wasn't a question, not really. Sin knew exactly how stressed he had been about this, and knew that his reaction would be a lot different if he had failed.

"Yep! Congratulations Grey Rowan." He cheered lightly.

Sin rolled his eyes. "And to you, Grey Damien. Or, should I call you Grey Idiot?"

He shoved his friend. If anyone was to ask where he had learned the slag and Earth curse words, he would be able to point to his best friend without hesitation. The man insulted everyone, but he didn't mind. He knew that his friend was joking and wasn't being cruel or mean.

That said, he wasn't sure how long the smile would be on his face. He was ecstatic, and a bit confused as to why he doubted himself in the first place.

"Wanna go out tonight?" Sin asked, his smooth southern accent slightly thicker than normal. Sin couldn't help but blush a bit when he noticed the accent that had slipped into his voice.

Rowan Sinclair was from earth. That part was true, but he was also from Texas. Over the years, he had gotten used to suppressing his accent and the natural slur of his drawl. It was funny to think about now, but the others natural accent had gotten him attention that he didn't want. Sin worked hard to get rid of it, and in most situations, unless one knew what to listen for, they didn't hear it.

That said, he had also learned almost all of his slang and common curse words from the other. Even if Sin was supposed to be a southern gentleman, he could curse like the best of them.

Especially when he was drunk.

Which was why his current thought was running through his mind. "Do you want to go out tonight? To celebrate?"

Sin shrugged easily, which told Damius just how stressed his best friend was. He didn't even bother with pretending to protest. It was really funny, and really sad in the same thought.

Oh well, his friend wasn't going to be so uptight for much longer.

"Great!" He chirped happily, "I'll meet you at the Greystone Lounge in 20?"

His friend shrugged again, which meant that Sin would probably be there in 15, just to mess with his head. He wanted to huff. They hadn't shared a dorm in a few years, as those fourth year and above were allowed to stay by themselves. Sin was lucky enough to get a room near the outskirts of campus, which meant he had to go further than Damien did during some classes, but most of their after class activities were on the side that Sin roomed near.

Damien wasn't so lucky. He was in a dorm with mostly younger students, as it was cheaper, and on the complete other side of campus. The only thing that was good about it was the gym that was less than two minutes away from his dorm so that he could work out whenever he wanted.

It was nice in a way, though. Alhaborian's never needed as much sleep as humans did, and with his own room, he didn't have to worry about waking anyone else up when he was in the mood for a run. He usually slept anywhere from 3 to 4 hours a night, although he could get away with that amount every three days when he needed to.

Sin turned to go out of the room they had been waiting I'm, but Damien wasn't about to let him go so quickly. He threw an arm over his friend's shoulder. Sin, of course, did nothing. He knew that Damien got a bit touchy feely when he was excited or relieved about something. After five years, there weren't very many things he could do to surprise the other.

Damien knew that most people would have freaked out if he had bothered being affectionate with them. He also knew that Sin would have been actually surprised if he found out that Damien was treating him like he would treat a favored sibling or heir. He wouldn't even let most of his siblings crash on his couch as often as Sin did.

Then again, he had a lot of siblings, and most of them were both arrogant without a reason to be, as well as weak. It was a bad combination. He knew why though. They spent more time being envious than they did actually doing something about it. His sibling had mostly the same mentality of thinking everything belonged to them because of who their parents were. It was pitiful.

He understood how tempting it was to be content with his status and power, but he couldn't quell that insistent need to improve himself. He was powerful, and knew a lot, but he didn't know enough. Just because he could fight with several styles didn't mean he wasn't still going to get hurt if his reaction time was off at all. He still didn't have enough information to be able to help his captain with more than a few dozen language and cultures, which could get him killed. He wasn't good enough yet.

Damien was strong, fast, and smart but he wasn't good enough yet.

He and Sin split up, and Damien broke into a light jog towards his rooms. He knew he heard Sin laughing, as the other didn't understand his need to keep his body constantly getting better and better.

That was alright though, he knew why. He knew how dangerous fighting was for him and every other Alhaborian. Their skin was thin, and easily broken. He knew that humans had seven layers of skin. He and his people only had three. Add that to the fact that their muscle and fat was moved differently than humans, and he knew how dangerous fighting was. Most of his muscles were in his arms, back, and legs while the fat layers were in the neck, ankles, and upper torso. He had to do a lot to make sure that none of the usual fat deposits that showed up on most Alhaborian's didn't show up on him.

The fat was, supposed to, protect the weak points and give it some extra cushion so hits didn't hit as effectively as they could have. But, he didn't want that on his body.

He had noticed that some humans were big and bulky all over, and yet they still couldn't lift half of what he could. He wasn't being self centered or anything like that, but he knew what he could handle, and what was too much now wouldn't always be so.

He touched the fingerprint pad and let it scan his first and second fingers. Once it did, the door clicked and he was allowed inside. His room was on the third floor, thankfully away from most of the noise that happened on the first.

Damien raced up the stairs easily, and down the hall to the fifth door on the right. He unlocked it with his prints, like he would the front doors. That done, he opened it and glanced around the room. What to wear?

He moved to his closet and looked around for something that would look good, fit well, but be more comfortable than his current suit and tie they were forced to wear.

He finally settled on a long sleeved black shirt that slipped easily over his head, and a pair of dark gray jeans. He kicked off his boots and slid the jeans over his hips. Once they were on, he slipped on his favorite pair of curled slippers and threw a cloak around his shoulders.

He knew that he looked partially human with his current attire, but he wore cloaks and slippers whenever he got the chance to. They were more comfortable than jackets, and they reminded him of home. He used to be shy about letting his heritage show, but it wasn't because he was ashamed, he just wasn't supposed to be who he had always been. It was a stressful process, learning what was and what wasn't allowed, but he had learned.

He hid a smirk as he pinned the cloak over his shoulders. Besides, he knew he looked good, even with such a strange sense of smile. No one was able to tell why exactly he preferred cloaks to jackets, or slippers to shoes, but he had gotten used to giving them a secretive smile every time he was asked. The few people who had figured out why he wore what he did didn't know who he was, but they knew enough about Alhabor to know that cloaks were more comfortable to them with their thin skin as jackets rubbed at their arms and sometimes caused their skin to bruise and break.

Not that he would ever admit it. If the rest of his class suspected that he took more after his supposed parent from Lyra, than his Alhaborian one, well, he wasn't going to correct them. One day, he promised himself, he was going to figure out why everyone thought he had a parent from Lyra. He didn't look anything like those from that galaxy, they were usually tanned, with greenish tints to their skin, and soft orange eyes with slightly pointed ears. He had none of the common characteristics of their people.

That said, he wasn't going to dissuade anyone from believing whatever they wanted. As long as he didn't hear rumors that stemmed from the truth, or any that guessed at who he had been, well, he would take all of the other rumors in stride.

And if they happened to cause him amusement, he thought as he closed the door to his room behind himself, it didn't hurt anyone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A friend of mine in RL reminded me that I hadn't updated this in a while, so here is the next chapter.

A knock echoed through the room, making his head pound. He, like most Alhaborian's didn't get drunk of alcohol, oh no, they couldn't because it didn't affect their systems. That didn't mean that it stopped him from feeling like crap the day after though.

He wondered if the thudding sound was coming from inside or outside his head. At this point, he couldn't tell, and frankly didn't care. He just wanted it to stop. He buried his head under the thin blanket and curled up tightly.

He heard Sin getting up and cursing, which was enough to let him know that his friend had once again decided to crash on the couch. Not that Sin had much of a choice in the matter. He had warned the other not to touch the alcohol from Sagittarius. They were insane there, and their liquor was enough to even get him falling over after a few shots. Poor Sin didn't have a chance.

Oh well, the other hadn't listened to him, and that alone probably made him deserve the hangover.

Every part of his brain hurt, but he could think clearly enough to grab an anti- hangover insta- work. Maybe not with his hands, as that required him to get up, which wasn't a very good idea. No, with his telekinesis.

When he had been trained on how to use it properly under duress, he didn't think this was what his teachers had in mind. Then again, he was sure they didn't have any idea what he currently did with his free time.

Using his power, he hovered it over the base of his spine. With his mind's eye, he steadied it, and injected it directly into his spine. If he had been human, he wouldn't have dared to do so, but, thanks to his body, he was able to put injections directly into his spine with little outside effect's.

He reached for another with his powers, intending to be nice and offer a human-safe version to his friend for answering the door.

"Lieutenant Commander Svin, sir. Um..." He heard Sin stutter. He hid a snicker., until the name registered in his rapidly clearing mind. Uh oh.

He pushed himself out of bed, stumbling as his sheet tied itself around his legs. It wasn't fair, he thought with a mental pout. The one day he had actually gotten to bed after 5 am, and the person that could decide his fate had knocked on his door at seven. He hated this so much.

His mind was slower than it should be thanks to being exhausted, he knew that that the other two could hear him in the other room, but as long as he was presentable once he left his own room, he didn't think they would say anything.

He slipped into an extremely billowing pair of soft pants that he had bought in Ares, and a matching pure black top. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to settle it down a bit. A rare, slightly randomly known fact was how much time he usually spent on his hair in the morning. Naturally, it twisted into curls unless he spent time taming it.

Sin had, of course, told him that he was a woman in the morning because of how much time he spent getting ready. He hogged the bathrooms in the morning, and had always been grateful that his friend was one of those people that didn't obsess over his appearance.

He mentally cursed and ran a hand through his hair again, attempting to untangle the curls in his hair. It would have to do, he thought as he glanced into the mirror. He caught the anti hangover insta- work, and tucked it into his sleeve. This was a bad time for visitors, but he wasn't about to leave Sin struggling if he didn't have to.

He opened the door calmly, greeting his friend with a slight incline of his head. "Good morning sir."

"Morning Grey Damien. Grey Sinclair and I were just having a conversation about you. "

He strode over to his friend and stood cash next to him. He easily handed over the insta- work, and contented himself with that. Damien was never gladder that they were completely silent, and his friend wasn't squeamish.

"Only good things, I hope." It wasn't a question, not when Sin was around. No, the man was more likely to lie and tell strengths that weren't there. Sin would never let him look bad. Ever. Especially not in front of anyone important. The man may have exaggerated a bit, but Damien always returned the favor.

Svin gave him a strange look, before looking away from them both, semi- awkwardly. Whatever he was here for wasn't something that he wanted to deal with, which made Damien curious.

His best friend got the silent hint moments before he did, and easily excused himself from the conversation. He didn't want to be left alone with the Lieutenant Commander, but it didn't seem like he had much of a choice in the matter. He tried not to glance at his friend's retreating form into his room.

"I am going to be blunt with you, Grey Damien. This moment is probably one of the worst to be a newly graduated anything. We have threats coming in from left and right, and those on the top of the chain know it. You've probably heard of the explosion on Cygnus, right?" The man ran a hand through his thinning light brown hair.

Damius nodded lightly. He knew of it. How could he not? The entire planet sized space station that had been just inside that constellation had been blown up. People weren't exactly happy with those in the Canis Major star set. No, everyone thought they were nothing more than barbarians and thieves.

He had a feeling though, that it wasn't as simple as it seemed. No, he had grown up knowing the leaders of the nearby planets that made up his home constellation. He knew that some were more... shady than others, but none of them were powerful enough to be able to take on the entire alliance.

"As far as anyone else is concerned, the reports that it was made by Adhara are nothing more than rumors. Unofficially, though, everyone knows they did it. Now, normally, you would be shunned and ignored because of where you are from, but thanks to your completely opposite personality compared to the normal definition of Alhaborian's well, as far as we are concerned, you were just born into the wrong family. So, we have a choice here. Either we can assign you to a planet far enough away and in a small enough position that you will never be noticed, or... Grey Damien, how do you feel about being a part of a prototype crew made up only of people who have been graduated for less than a year?"

He blinked.

What exactly was he supposed to say to that? Thanks for insulting the royal families that I grew up with, including the one I was born to, not that you know it, and offering not to throw me on some abandoned space station on the outskirts of some random galaxy?

He wanted to narrow his eyes and tell the man exactly what he thought of the plans that he was fairly sure he had little choice in, but he didn't. If there was a way to make sure that his people got good press right about now, well, he would do it.

"What exactly does this entail, sir?" He questioned carefully.

The toothy smirk that the other man gave him sent shivers down his spine. This wasn't going to go well. He knew that, and yet, a part of him was genuinely curious about a prototype crew and what that meant.

"The P.C., or prototype crew if you prefer, is, as I stated earlier, a crew that consists of only those who haven't been around for very long. This crew is going to be assigned several missions of different types, some alliance stuff, some privacy details, some espionage assignments, and we are basically just throwing them to the stars in hopes that they won't make a fool of us. That said, we may also use them in combat, if the rumors are true, and they need to be made up of men such as yourself, who wouldn't mind taking a few... less intelligent lives." Svin told him carefully keeping his tone casual and relaxed. Not that Damien fell for it, but he could say that the other was good at faking emotion. He could read discomfort, a touch of confusion, and a good chunk of anger that wasn't directed at himself, on the others face.

So, basically, they wanted to experiment.

"Dare I ask what that has to do with my person?" He wasn't sure why a part of his head was screaming for him to go home, throwing the problem for someone else to deal with. He wouldn't, of course, but he was extremely tempted to.

"They, I mean, I want you to be the captain and the figurehead to keep the heat off of Sirius and the rest of Canis Major."

In other words, they wanted someone they could easily throw to the wolves at the first sign of his mistakes, and yet someone who wouldn't produce a lot of public sympathy. He knew that because of his heritage, most of the known galaxies would lift a hand to help him.

On the other hand, he would also be able to gain a reputation that might be able to fight against the negativity. It was give him and his family if he played it right, the ability to help find the real criminals, clearing all of those he knew wouldn't dare harm that many people. If he managed to gain a good reputation, he knew that his voice might gain a bit of backing behind it.

The thought of being someone with similar responsibilities as he had on Alhabor was enough to make his stomach roll a bit.

What did he know about leading a ship? He understood his classes would have covered some things, but there were more things that one couldn't learn except from someone that had already been in his spot.

He also understood that any mistake, either his or his crews would be counted as a mark against him. It wasn't fair, and it wasn't noble, but he understood the need for the rules to be the way they were. It was dangerous otherwise. And not just for them, or himself, but for the whole ship.

"No offense intended, Sir, but what makes you think that a single crew can do everything that you are wanting them to? And what kind of ship would be able to handle the distance, the possible prisoners, and everything else? It isn't reasonable to assume-" he tried, allowing some of his Alhaborian logic to slip into his voice without his approval. He considered how to deal with this situation. Damien knew that he was trapped when the other man shut him up, but Damius could reach a decision. Hopefully.

Svin cut him off with a sharp glare and a quick tongue. "Look, kiddo, I don't think you understand what exactly is going to happen. So, let me spell it out for you. Either, we make sure that you're frozen alive on some unknown planet until the world's forget about you, or you take my offer, and don't fuck up. The only thing that's making us give you a choice in the matter is the fact that you're well known for a newly graduated Grey. You have the potential to be great, to be remembered in history. Do you really want to fuck it up by not just being a good little boy?" The man growled.

The L.T.C. was losing his patience. That was obvious from everything the man couldn't hide.

"Very well." He agreed after a moment of thought. He knew his father would be upset with him and his unmethodical decision, but he didn't want the threats to escalate beyond himself. He had no doubt that if he continued to defy their wishes, his so called crew would be punished instead of himself. That was an unacceptable outcome.

Maybe he just wouldn't tell his family yet. There were no rules saying that he had to tell them everything the moment it happened. He would put it off though, unless he wanted to be beaten for insubordination the next time he was on Alhabor.

That would be unfortunate.

Not that he would ever tell anyone that he had probably gotten soft since he left.

L.T.C. Svin gave him a slightly approving look. "Good, Grey Damien. You will receive a message with the names, statuses, and resumes of your possible ship mates. You will be able to have first pick of all the new graduates. Have all of your interviews and positions filled by next week at the latest. You will have three days to acclimate to the crew, before you will receive your first mission. Any questions you have will be answered in due time if you message them in an orderly fashion. Do you understand?"

Damien allowed his face to morph into his usual calm smile. "Of course, Sir." He said, "Thank you for this opportunity."

L.T.C. Svin laughed, "Kiddo, you have no idea what you're getting into."

Damien tilted his head slightly, agreeing with the man. He didn't have a clue what he was doing, but that didn't mean that anyone else did either. He would do his best to make sure that he honored his people and his king with his actions.

It probably helped, he acknowledged to himself, that his masks were still firmly in place. If there were situations that Damien couldn't handle, Damius probably could. He had the advantage in most cases because he wasn't just one person anymore.

The moment he was alone, he allowed himself to fall onto the old couch. He threw an arm over his eyes, and sighed heavily. He wasn't exactly sure how he was going to play this game, but seeing as he didn't exactly have a choice, he would manage.

He wasn't sure why...

A small ping from his room caught his attention. He considered getting up for a moment, but ultimately decided against it. He swung his legs over the side and sunk down into the black leather. He needed time to understand.

He understood the appeal of a prototype crew. Having a crew whose mastery was their complete lack of a specialty didn't really make much sense in his mind. On one hand, they would be able to fill in any gaps that were left. On the other hand, being good in several things was going to be almost impossible, especially since he only had a certain group to work with.

He eyes pulsed in pain, reminding him of the headache that he had woken up with. Normally, he would have locked himself in a dark room until his eyes didn't feel like they were going to explode. This type of headache wasn't because of the alcohol, no this was pure stress. Because of that, nothing would really help reduce the discomfort.

He hissed quietly, but pulled himself up off the couch. He couldn't afford to take any time off, not when he had so much to do. He needed to create a crew out of nothing, pack up, and get moved into his ship, and not let anyone get killed.

That was simple enough. He could do that.

Maybe.

He stumbled back to his room, hoping the alert wasn't from his father, he really didn't want to deal with that right now, and grabbed his holo-note off of his nightstand. He flicked it on, dimmed the light until he could barely see it, and got to work. He needed to plan in order to make this work.

Thankfully, the alert was the list of his possible crew members. Well, he thought, exhaustion trying to block out his mind, that was quick. He never really had a choice then.

He rubbed his hands over his hair, and let out a breath, before releasing his emotions from behind the mental bock. He could feel his hair changing color, from the deep sapphire blue that he normally kept, to a raging ruby that shone with frustration, to an exhausted lavender, before finally settling on a detached icy blue.

There was no right way to handle any of this, no textbook that he could read with the right answers, but he was trapped in their webs now. He only hoped he didn't choke himself with it.

Which brought up the question of who were the people really behind this? What exactly did they want with him? And most importantly, did they know of his heritage? He felt like he was walking on a tightrope and trying to figure out which way to go. One way was on fire and creeping closer, the other was likely to break with even the smallest bit of pressure, after it skewered him, of course. Both paths would lead to his death. He knew and accepted that.

The only difference was one was thought to be slightly more humane than the other.

He snorted to himself as he flicked through the list. If he was asked which one was better, he would have picked the fire. But no, that wasn't the answer they wanted to hear. He also thought, well maybe the right answer is jumping off the tightrope and hoping for the best.

It was that thought, more than anything, that told him just how unready he was for this. He wasn't mentally mature enough anymore to be able to deal with having to be responsible for so many more lives.

Once again, though, it didn't matter if he wasn't ready for it. He had agreed, and wallowing in self pity wasn't going to do him any good. Besides, he had his own star ship! He was going to be a captain, and one of the youngest ones in history! He was going to be able to make something of himself, and prove to his people that he would be an effective leader. He glanced at the holo- note and closed his eyes again. How was he going to pull this off?

He supposed he could just find people for the head positions, and maybe let them pick who they wanted under themselves? For all he knew, he might accidently pair together two people who hated each other. He couldn't allow that. It would cause a bad environment for the rest of the ship.

And, that meant he would actually have to resolve drama. Personally, he was the type of person that preferred to eat popcorn while the drama was happening. He had been introduced to the salty treat by Sin, of course he had, and he preferred to stay out of the ring when people were insulting each other. It was more fun to just laugh at the idiocy of both parties.

He opened the first message, and considered for a moment, who he wanted to deal with in Science. He knew a few people that were alright, but most of them were stuck up idiots that couldn't play well with others.

His eyes scanned the page until he came to a specific name. Kaira. He knew her fairly well. She was a bit spacey, compared to some of the other Oranges. She wasn't human, she was from somewhere in Caelum, he thought, but it wouldn't be that big of a deal.

She was also the best in their class when it came to Different Biology's. She was methodical, clever, and not likely to let anyone boss her around. He mentally shrugged, and sent her a message with her assignment to his crew and how many people she had to have working under her.

Next was an easy choice. His second. Sin was the obvious choice for several reasons. First off, Sin would have shot him in the head if he didn't choose the other as his second in command. Secondly, Sin was the only one who could pull him out of his weird moods that he sometimes got stuck in.

He shot the other a message, fairly close to Kaira's, except his friend didn't get his own part of the crew. He knew Sin would have enough on his plate, trying to get everything ready for their own voyage. The decision for his third was a lot more irritating, as he knew most, if not all, the other greys. There were very few he actually trusted.

He worked for about eight hours, before he finally put the holo- note down. He raised a hand to his eyes and rubbed them roughly. He was exhausted, and his head still hurt. He had done as much as he possibly could at this point. It wasn't everything, but he had gotten all of the heads and leads picked out. All he needed to do was to was wait at this point for the responses. Once he had them, he could do something else, but until then, he was basically done for the day.

A part of him wondered if Sin had managed to keep everyone away from. He had expected several people to storm into his dorm room, demanding to know if it was a joke. But, the only response he had gotten was from Sin. Of course, you stupid idiot. That was it. No useless platitudes about how honored he was for being picked, no threats, nothing.

It was interesting, but he couldn't say he was surprised. He had become more than slightly protective of his best friend, and, in response, Sin had done the same. He would have been insulted that a human didn't think he was capable of protecting himself, but he was too busy being amused.

He could literally break Sin in half, and breaking every single bone in the humans body wouldn't have even caused him to break a sweat. And yet, Sin was protective over him.

Sin had never said anything about it, and neither had Damien. He knew better than to bring up something like this. That said, he had a bad feeling that it had something to do with the others completely insane notion that he was, what was it again, a big cuddle bear.

Damien snorted at the thought. He was nowhere near anything like that, but he was alright with the delusion his friend was under. He thought it was hilarious as Orumok, the Alhaborian afterlife. He had grown up using weapons, learning how to make them extensions of his limbs, and yet, somehow, he was cuddly?

A smirk broke on his face. He could demand for Sin to do a mental evaluation. He wouldn't, but the thought that he could, well, it was a thought sweeter than nectar. The warmth in his skull told him that his hair had changed colors again, and he closed his eyes, leaning back in his bed.

If he had been on Alhabor, every thought and feeling he had would have been unacceptable. He couldn't help but think of his older full sister. Lillith- Noirka was a perfect specimen of an Alhaborian. She had been the most similar to who he had been, but she was far more ruthless than he had ever been.

Only their other two full siblings were worth her concern. The other twenty- nine, well, as far as she cared, they were just stupid. He didn't blame her. They were mostly not graceful, didn't understand true power, and never were able to look at someone as an equal, or a superior.

That was probably why he had been asked to end the life of his thirtieth sibling. Despite the high number of siblings, or half siblings he had, there were several more that had either died or been killed. He had killed one of his sisters, Musidora- Izdihar. She was born to his father's second wife, and had been almost fifty- eight, and yet she had less power than most of her younger siblings. In every fight, she lost. She was the shame of their father.

Before one of the weekly fights, when he had been fifteen years old, his father and king had pulled him aside and asked him to land a fatal blow on her. He didn't even flinch at the time, but now, he recognized it as what it truly was: a slaughter. It didn't matter that she had over forty years of training, while he had only a decade's worth. It didn't matter that he allowed her to decide the weapon. He hadn't stilled his hand, and she had died within an hour of the command reaching his ears.

It was a mercy killing, he told himself, if they had ended up in a war, how many lives would have been lost because she couldn't defend herself? He hadn't regretted it for years, and he had been alright with it.

Until, of cause, he ended up here. This planet had changed many things about him, and the most annoying of which had to do with guilt and remorse. He had lived here, and somehow, his mask had ended up changing his mind about several things.

Only now could he acknowledge, if only to himself, that what he had done was cruel, but he was far from the only one who had been given the order. By birth, there had been forty- one children sired by the wives of the king. They were down to thirty- two, including himself.

Musidora- Izdihar was only one of those who wasn't fit enough to survive. Of the other eight that died, four had died before he was born, three during his life, and one had been killed after he left Alhabor.

It didn't affect anything though. He was still the first in line for the throne, he was still not allowed to go home for most likely several decades, and he was still the only one in hiding. He knew better than to let it bother him most of the time.

But sometimes, very rarely, but sometimes, he couldn't get her horrified look out of his mind. She hadn't expected anything, but that was a good thing. He never played with her, never made her suffer, he just followed orders in the cleanest method he could think of.

He let his head fall backwards, shoving the thoughts out of his head, and let out a long breath. He needed sleep. He needed to rest, and after that, well, he didn't know, but he knew he would manage whatever it was.

He kept a close eye on his breathing, slowing it down and letting sleep fill his mind. His dark purple eyes slowly slid shut, and his breathing slowed further as he let himself fall into the abyss that was sleep.


End file.
